Damien stunned Mimi in the trunk and made sure she was in a deep enough sleep. Then he drove off. On the way, he pushed Mimi's implant one more time and got the hormone implants working, too. He stopped the car, Mimi couldn't be seen from under the covers, and he didn't stay long. He was back in the opening ceremony place, in the clinic's yard.
He went into the maintenance booth and clicked Mirella's shackles open. He took out crystals that had kept the shed hidden.
"It was about time. It wasn't in talks that you almost killed me, Salvatore!" Mirella was furious.
Damien said: "Behave yourself, or I will hurt you. Mimi had to believe me. It's okay—Mimi's fine. I have to stress her body to get the pregnancy going. Everything will go smoothly. When I return Mimi, she's super-fertile and full of my sperm. When Adam and Charles get her aroused, they induce conception, and Mimi gets pregnant. And when she thinks the father is Charles or Adam, her body doesn't reject but accepts. I also collect eggs from Mimi for storage, fertilize them externally, and then implant them in her womb."
Mirella was silent, and Damien ordered her: "Now go and put wings or whatever, here goes what goes."
Then Damon came close to Mirella and grabbed her by the chin, looked deep into her eyes, and said, " Forget the whole day. Forget the entire plan. The opening went well, but you weren't there. You were with Magnum."
Damien lowered his gaze and loosened his grip on Mirella's chin. Mirella had been so easy to go along with this plan. Little compulsion had been all that it took to wipe her memory. The best part was that Mirella did not know anything about him. She really and truly believed that this was all Damon's work. Mirella was not good, Damien could sense it and Bran had told him a few things about Mirella, but she had her uses yet. One day it might be time to get rid of her, too.
He watched as Mirella walked to her car like a robot. Easy pickings. Now, the fun part begins. Now, at least at first, he just had to try to control himself. It was a good thing Mirella was such an easy fucking victim to his mind control. It would be time to have fun, to get his enjoyment, and then his heirs, too. The best thing would be that Adam and Charles would fuck her pregnant. He would not have to.
Damon went to his car, checked the trunk to ensure Mimi was properly unconscious, and drove to the airport. He drove the car onto the plane and carried his unconscious wife to the couch to lie down. He was watching this inquiringly and planning for the future.
Oh, how he loved to improvise. He called Sark to give his report on this joint experiment and Krycheck too. He could do some cooperation from time to time. He did not tell them anything about his little ongoing experiment.
Mimi slept the entire flight and noticed the first signs that his wife's consciousness was returning as he carried her back to the car. Mimi was quite harmless; he had wonderful drugs, strong ones, in high doses, and each enhancing the other; it would be some time before Mimi could even stand up. He had gotten a few drugs from Sark and a few from flea warehouses, too.
The first thing I realized when I regained consciousness was that I was on a plane. I've been drugged, anesthetized, and stunned so many times that I know my stuff when I start to come around.
I heard Damien, because stank of wet dogs, talk to someone on the phone. I realized that it was probably Sark and this would not be a straightforward thing to get out, not a normal shed session, but I was getting myself ready. There are a few things one has to do in times like this.
Rule #1. Pretend to be a sleeping person, if you can, for as long as possible. It's not always easy to keep your breathing exactly the same or your pulse rate, to be quiet, possibly completely limp, if someone is carrying you. I had a fairly long experience, so when I found I was still on the plane, I had a good time letting the medicine dissipate and having a chance to escape. I waited patiently for 45 minutes before the plane even started to reduce altitude. Then, the whole landing and carrying it to the car.
This brings us to rule number 2: remember, though, wake up when expected, don't be too refreshed, but a little sleepy voice will do. When Damon put me in the trunk, I moved myself with a sigh and moved my hand. He lifted my eyelids, and when he tried the pain reflexes, I moved weakly again. It's difficult because this boy doesn't spare his strength.
Now, it was time to wait. There was nowhere to go from the back of the car, and the implants inside me didn't give me a very good chance of doing anything. But inside me was the trump card. But I would have to be so fucking clever again. My trump card was Mimosa. She was also starting to wake up. I tried to look for an opportunity to let Mimosa go and tell her where we were.
Not so easy. Mimosa sort of jumped out through my eyes, and I couldn't make Mimosa jump in the car. The best time would be between the car and whatever building we were going to. By the time I would be moved, I would be out.
This brings us to Rule No. 3: Always come up with some escape plan, a backup plan, and a contingency plan. Never settle for your fate and just think, "Help, I've been kidnapped," because you never know if the opportunity will come, and you better be ready when it does. Always be ready. Improvise.
Damien put Mimi in the car, and she kept moving her hand. He lifted Mimi's eyelid and looked at her. The pupil was still small, but the eye was already in place. Fine, the lady was playing sleepier than she was. If Mimi had been as unconscious as she let on, then when he looked at Mimi's eye, it would have moved slightly from side to side.
Now, it was stationary. He squeezed Mimi hard, and Mimi just moved a little. Mimosa also seemed to be awake. This would be fun. Damon put the trunk closed, got in the car, and started driving. He drove down the dark forest road for a while, then activated the transponder, and when he was at a point, he pushed the button.
An underground hatch popped up, and Damien started driving up the ramp to the inside of the bunker. After going some distance down the ramp, he pressed the button again, and the hatch closed. This bunker was wide, and he had secured all the exits so that Mimi couldn't escape, well, if she could even travel such distances then—and Mimosa, same thing. Sark had given him this underground facility to be his workplace, and he had gotten this ready over the years. He had brought a few quests here too.
He was in two minds about whether to put Mimosa back to sleep or actually pick her up and deal with her, too. How was Mimi´s reproduction different from Mimosa's? Could Mimosa be pregnant? And if he could, could he implant Mimi´s and his embryo into Mimosa? What about him and Mimosa? Damien took a quick inventory in his mind. He would have everything he needed for Mimosa.
But two targets. Oh yeah, I guess it's Christmas; he chuckled to himself. He usually did not want to hurt Mimosa, because he kind of adored her, but the thought of that beautiful wolf filled and pregnant with his pups was too good an opportunity to be missed. Besides, it would do good for Mimosa to start learning to behave too.
He drove the car deep into the bunker and stopped it. He lazily got out of the car and stretched. He thought happily, "This is going to be something." He would have to stress about two. He has the equipment and tools to do it. And best of all, psychological stress also enhances the effect.
Damien knew he would get maximum pleasure from this when he came up with a logical reason to do this. Meaning it would be harder for Damon to get a distance from this. This would feel so natural for him, too. The reason was simple. He needed to stress Mimi's and now Mimosa's bodies and stamina because they would be strengthened, and once he got them in heat and breeding, the strain on their bodies would no longer be overwhelming, and they would both be carrying his children.
The gestation period is short, only eight weeks. Damon imagined how sweet the gestational belly would become for Mimi and how he would feel the new life stirring inside her. But first, maximum stress, both psychological and physical. The best part of the final was how he would overcome Mimi. Even now, he had a plan. And when Damon would come to the surface, see Mimi and Mimosa both pregnant, and a new life would be born too.
Life would be pretty perfect. He might be able, with the help of Sark and Krycheck and a few witches, to go in one of those babies and let Mimi raise him. He would have his own body and Mimi would not suspect anything as Damon then would become a perfect husband, with no shed sessions, only a happy family life.
He loved to see Mimi planning an escape, and he stopped it, but not directly. Mimi was so damn cunning, her drug tolerance was just amazing, and Damien knew that if he gave the same drug repeatedly, Mimi would quickly learn to block it. So the key to controlling Mimi was powerful drugs, high doses, and as many as you could find.
Damon had always developed his medicine. A slight change in the formula, so blocking Mimi doesn't work, and the drug does. Mimi's strategy was probably to get Damon to use the implants enough to render them useless. No. We're not doing it, Damien thought happily. He walked to the back doors of the car and opened them. He had here a lot of drugs from Sark and also from Damon's teeth.
He lifted the presumably almost unconscious wife into his arms. She was pretending very believable. This was just incredible, and she made another small noise as Damon stood up and carried her to the couch. There were couches and chairs in the bunker. Bookshelves. There were living quarters, even a television. Sark had given this to him years ago, and he had spent here some time working a few of subjects of his. And now, his favorites.
He set Mimi down on the couch and walked calmly towards the back of the bunker where he had a medicine cabinet—a large cabinet with proper locks. Next, he opened the cabinet and took the syringe and needle packs to the table next to him.
Then he started looking for drugs. Hormone therapy for Mimosa, sedatives, and most importantly, medicine that would keep Mimosa from getting to Mimi's head for safety. Mimosa had been resting for quite a while, so she would be in good shape. Just the right amount of stress. He drew syringe after syringe of medicine and attached needles to them as well.
Then Mimi, nine different sedatives, and three fast-acting anesthetics for large animals. Hormone preparations for seven different. Again, preloaded syringes with color coding. Also, there are a few psychotropics and mild panic pharmaceuticals too, making her in better shape to be manipulated.
Damon knew Mimi could smell the drugs and the medicines, so he prepared them. He wanted to give her different stimuli and make her try to escape. Let her smell what he was doing, oh this was so much fun. He loved it when they fought back. After finishing a couple of injections, he continued on his way toward the dark back of the bunker.
He would return to Mimi and turn on the lights, revealing several shed devices. Yet another psychological torture. Then he pulled the cage out. And he fastened it firmly to the floor. He might not use the cage, but it was so good to be there. When he looked back, Mimi was no longer on the couch. The perfect plan worked exactly as he had calculated. He had taken a few injections with him, and they were waiting in the inside pocket of his jacket.
The car stopped, and I heard the door open. The air coming into the car was not outside air. Damn, we had driven right into the interior. Well, it didn't matter. I'm good at improvising all the time. Even in combat, I never know what I'm going to do next. I have no plan. I react and play a dirty game, as dirty as possible. I throw sand in the eyes quite literally if I can. After all, I am chaos or will be full chaos someday, but it influenced me already.
But good, here's probably an escape situation. Implants are one thing to worry about, and instead of starting to dig them out, I'll just have Damon trigger them enough times to give him resistance first, and soon I'll have a tolerance, and then they'll be useless. And if Damon doesn't have a remote to knock me out, the Lord will have to attack me physically, and oh boy, by then I'll be charged with rage. My rage is already so high at that point that I can even survive Damon.
That's why I always win fight halls because I bring my rage out, and then I don't feel the damage or care about it. I play as unfairly as I can and improvise. Apart from the fact that I look about 160 cm tall and weigh 45-60 kg, I'm not very street-credible. I'm just a little flea.
Many, if not all, of my opponents have underestimated me, and here's the result. Survivor. Damon is the only one who could beat me, but I'm not going to give him the chance. First, I'm going to do a little exploring of my surroundings, so I'll find a nook and cranny for a while where I'll let Mimosa loose...
Mimosa knows how to hide, and then when the implants are useless, and Damon comes at me, Mimosa will be my secret backstabber. One enraged 90-kg female wolf with a shoulder height of at least about 3 feet. And Mimosa doesn't appreciate what Damon has done or will do. I had the outline of my plan but as usual, my overconfidence got in the way and badly, my original sin, the one that I can't seem to shake off.
Damon had carried me to the couch and walked somewhere. I opened my eyes a bit to look around a bit and start planning what to do. The bunker, a huge concrete bunker, this space where the car was driven into, was like a cross between a living room and a garage. The space went on for a long way ahead, but there were no lights, so I didn't know what was in there yet. This was a huge bunker and probably an ex-medical facility or something that had been in the hands of Sark or someone else. I had no idea if even Mr. Sark had given this to Damien.
It was easier for me to think of him as Damien, so no wrong feelings against Damon would have born then and if I ever got out of here, we could maybe move on this, forget this ever happening. Somehow I still knew it was important for me to love and trust Damon as much as possible and treat Damien as if he were not part of Damon.
Damon had gone in front of one cabinet and taken some containers from there. Oh, drugs, fine, okay. You'll get them when I get there. There's another advantage to that: the drugs they use on me are really strong, and Damon is my biological half, so those drugs will probably work on the gentleman himself. I sat quietly while he concentrated on drawing the drugs into the syringes. There was also a corridor on the other side of the bunker. There was little light. I got up and crept quietly but quickly toward the other corridor.
Yes, there might be an exit here, but first, Mimosa had to be released, and this corridor would have a room where Mimosa could be put to wait. I wouldn't mind if Salvatore stunned or sedated me with an implant while Mimo was out of my head. It's in my best interest that those implants no longer work on me. I had time, and I was unkillable, so no worries, for that matter, but I was not going to be an easy victim.
I went down the hall a bit and carefully tried door after door, and they were all open. I found just the right room, which was dark and full of shadow boxes. Just where Mimo could hide. I opened the door and looked into the room carefully. Mimosa leaped free. She moved silently and found a good place to hide.
The feeling of what comes when a wolf jumps through your eyes is indescribable. It doesn't hurt per se, but it makes you instinctively close your eyes, and then Mimo can't get out. I had done it a few times at first before I learned to keep my eyes open. Mimo was free, and she had already slipped hiding into this storage room. I closed the door and sighed.
"What are you looking for, baby?" Damon's voice said at lightning speed.
I sighed, restrained myself from flinching, and from showing him what I had just done here. I tried to sound normal as possible, to get some explanation first on this.
My voice was a little irritated. " What is this place, Damon? What are these rooms, and why did you bring me here? Are we even in the United States anymore?"
I tried to trick Damon some more into not looking in the room. He came up behind me, grabbed my hands, and twisted them behind my back. With his other hand, he pressed the implant control. Good.
"Don't squirm, baby. There's nothing you can do."His voice hissed dangerously in my ear.
My mind would be fogged up, but it was fine.
Damon held me as I tried to break free from his grip before anything in the implant would take effect, but Damon's grip was firm and after a few minutes, I could feel my muscles no longer obeying, but my head was still not very fuzzy. It was just a slightly surreal feeling.
Damon found it easier to control me, and he pressed me against the wall and pulled my hands back like that, bending them against each other as far as he could so that the fingers of one hand almost touched the elbow of the other. He tied my hands together with some kind of tape several times so that I couldn't wrench them free.
My arms were twisted as far back from my shoulders as possible, and soon my shoulders began to ache. Then Damon again bent my head forward and felt my neck for a moment, and I felt a long needle plunge deep into my brain through my neck, and the drug was injected there. Probably an anti-hibernation drug or a pack inhibitor. Next, he felt under my ear as he pulled the needle out and placed it on the table.
He kept pressing me against the wall, and the medicine from the implant kept coming on so that my head started to get cloudy. I couldn't resist. Now he bent my head to the side, took another needle, and plunged it under my ear into my brain. The medicine he sprayed made my head throb. He gave the same treatment to the other side. Then he turned me around and looked closely into my eyes as he moved my head and watched my eyes follow.
"Now baby, now Mimosa won't get back in your mind for safety," Damon said to me.
Oh fuck, he knew. Next, he pressed my back against the wall and lifted my shirt so my breasts were exposed. He again took a new syringe from the lining of his jacket, pushed the long needle straight into my nipple through my mammary gland, and pressed the plunger.
There was quite a lot of medicine, and it caused an uncomfortable pressure on my breasts. He repeated the same for the left breast. Then he lowered my shirt. My breasts throbbed and felt tight. He pressed me against him again and went to open the door to the room where Mimo was hiding.
He pressed the light switch on the wall, and the room lit up. He held me effortlessly against him with his hand on my waist as we entered the room. He had the tranquilizer gun in one hand, and there was only a pop and a howl to tell me that the dart had gone where he had intended it to go.
"Look at that, baby. If you didn't make everything so complicated, you wouldn't suffer yourself or Mimosa. But stubbornly, you do. Now then I'll deal with you both, and believe me, baby, there will be no problems." Damon's voice was icy, dangerous, and bored.
He pushed me out of the room and closed the door. It clicked shut, and Damon put the key in his pocket.
"I've given you anti-hibernation, a herd inhibitor, and that Mimo can't get into your head now. Now, we'll continue the hormone therapy to get you in shape before the stress. You'll both be on hormone therapy, you and Mimo. I had originally planned to let Adam and Charles handle your heat, but... I just love thinking and imagining the moment of conception. I'm also collecting eggs from both of you to fertilize outside your body. Then I'll implant those embryos in your uterus, too. "
Damien was back to his explaining ways. He needed to be talked to and talked to and explained. Sometimes it was very boring. Now, it was starting to sink back into that boring side.
He droned on in my ear, "I need to get you very fragile and in such a state that your body wants to reproduce very badly. But before and during that, I will stretch you to your utmost limits and beyond in as many ways as I can so that by the time the hormone therapy has done its job and you are ready to reproduce, your body will be so used to the stress that the gestation period will feel nowhere and you will carry our children and pups effortlessly. The same happens to Mimosa." I tried to get my mind a little clearer, but no.
His voice was almost enjoying now. "As you have noticed, the hormone implant I put in you has already been absorbed, the jelly in your pussy. And those the injections to your breasts, well soon your breasts will start producing milk. You see, Baby. I'm teaching you and Mimosa's bodies here what it involves: carrying babies, making puppies, stretching the uterus, etc., and, of course, milk production and milking. You'll experience it all, baby, amplified and taken to the extreme so that it's a piece of cake. It's all new now, but now. Let's go on."
Damon directed me to some sort of examination table. We had gone through the rows of shed equipment slowly so I could make sure I could see everything. There was also a silver, platinum cage bolted tightly to the floor. I was too drugged to resist still. My breasts were achy, my mind was muddled with those drugs. This was not good. He released my arms and lifted me to sit on the table and then on my back. Then he tied my hands to the bed's spiked chains and my feet. He lifted onto the stirrups and secured the chains to my ankles so I couldn't get my feet off the stirrups. I was still completely sedated, and slowly, I began to feel the drug wearing off.
He moved between my legs like a cool, matter-of-fact gynecologist. He first cut my trousers off my legs so that he could now bare my lower body. He felt my abdomen and, apparently having found my ovary, he inserted a long needle and injected a few milliliters of clear liquid into it. He did the same to the other side.
Then he pulled out the tray again, where he had stored all the supplies close to him, as he sat down on the stool between my legs. He pushed the spreader back inside me and spread it open. My pussy was again spread to the extreme.
Mimi had now been given hormone injections directly into her ovaries, and Damien felt a slight growth in her womb. Good. He pulled his supplies close. He sat down and put the spreader in Mim's cunt. It was now spreading much more easily. The tissue was already much more fertile and juicier and moist.
He visualized her cervix, which was perhaps even slightly open. Damon took the implant tray, into which he had inserted an even stronger and larger implant, which would open the uterine mouth properly. He pushed the applicator as tightly into the uterine mouth as he could and was pleased with how soft it was. The tip of the applicator pushed into the cervix. He shot the implant into the cervix, and the sound from Mimi's mouth told him it was in place. A strong hormone implant would soften and open the uterus in 12 hours.
Then he could handle the uterus as well. Soon, he would start her stress therapy. He filled her pussy again with even stronger jelly, waiting for it to harden before pulling out the applicator. He also worked on her vulva. Good, clear arousal response from touching the clitoris. That would be useful with the right drugs.
Then he lowered Mimi's legs from the stirrups and attached them to the shackles at the ends of the bed. He went to warm up the machine, opened the lid, and checked that the shackles held. He checked the blades and the tanks. Everything would be ready. Then he went to get Mimi.
After Damon had filled my pussy with jelly again, it burned and ached, and the dull ache in my lower abdomen told me that whatever he was shooting into my cervix would do something there, too. It reminded me of period pain. Although I had had those for several decades, I did remember how they felt. Drugs were losing their grip on my mind and I tried to remember that this was Damien, not Damon, but certain drugs seemed to make my mind too fuzzy to remember this. He got up from the chair and started to walk along the rows of tiles until he came to a white shuttle-like device. He turned the device on, and it started to make a low buzzing noise at first and then slowly got louder as it warmed up.
He opened the lid of the device and examined it to see that it was doing what it was supposed to. The drug he had drugged me with had slowly disappeared, and I began to regain my composure. When Damien was happy that the device was working, he left the lid open and came over to me. He looked at me like a piece of meat.
Emotionless, and I remembered the cold kisses he had given me earlier. I also smelled the wet dog. He took one needle from his pocket and, without a word, twisted my arm, pushed the needle into my vein, and pressed the plunger. My head turned into cotton wool. I couldn't lift it. My eyes didn't want to stay open. Damon untied me (arms and legs) and took off the rest of my clothes.
Then he lifted me in his arms and carried me to the machine. There was a cold metal tray on which he lowered me. He fastened my hands with metal clamps and my legs with Velcro straps around my ankles and above my knees.
Then he closed the lid and grabbed my head. This was not a shuttle that enveloped me fully, but my head was outside. He grabbed one of my eyelids and turned it around, working a thin needle through it, and then he pushed the needle again near my eyebrows and fastened it so that my eyes did not close. He also opened my other eye in the same way.
He then put a helmet on my head, and inside the helmet was a screen. I had to look at whatever was on the screen. The machine started up. I felt something being sprayed on my skin. Then came like little brushes that brushed for a moment at one point and moved on to the next, another brushing and spraying, now began to sting a bit like mist peeling off my skin, and again the stinging worsened to a burn.
I tried to endure. I watched on the monitor as Damon dragged an unconscious Mimosa to the table, how he put the hormone implants in Mimosa and gelled hormone jelly into my wolf. I knew Mimosa wouldn't last long. Mimosa is sensitive to this kind of hormone boost. Even though Mimosa was quite recent in heat, it wouldn't be a deal breaker. My wolf could probably get in the heat all year round. This was not a good thing at all. His twisted plan to get us pregnant would not work and it was probably just a little after thought so he could torture us.